


Lilyhearted

by Dead_Waltzer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hufflepuff Albus Severus Potter, Next Gen, Slytherin Lily Luna Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22778383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dead_Waltzer/pseuds/Dead_Waltzer
Summary: Lily Luna Potter is sorted as a first-year. Fleshing out her character somewhat, not intended to be multichapter, but who knows?
Kudos: 8





	Lilyhearted

**Author's Note:**

> This was lying around, and I didn't post it, so here we go. Lily's getting sorted! Hope y'all like this!

Professor Longbottom hesitated just a moment before he called her name, loud and clear, across the tittering Great Hall.

“Lily Luna Potter.” Lily raised her head and squared her shoulders. “Make pretend that your head is being pulled up, like a puppet on a string,” the Muggle teacher at charm school had told her as a child. “Make pretend that you have butterfly wings that you’re folding with your shoulders.”

Lily had always demanded the very best from her parents, earning her the chagrin of her cousins and siblings. When her mother had offered to take her to charm school, she’d been beside herself with glee. However, as it had turned out, Ginny hadn’t thought that Lily should be learning charms at six years old. No, she’d simply thought her youngest child was _rude_ and _disrespectful_. 

“I can tell you which house you’ll be sorted into, Lily,” James had said before he left her to sit with his Gryffindor pals on the train, “And it begins with a big ‘S’, like a snake.”

Lily had rolled her eyes. She wouldn’t let James see how scared she was. Two years ago, Albus had been nervous as anything when he showed up at home during the holidays, yellow-and-black scarf hanging loosely around his neck. James had mocked him mercilessly. But being a Hufflepuff had been good for Al. He’d always been a shy, timid boy, and the Hufflepuffs proved fast friends. Not to mention, they had a Potter now. James’s grin had been wiped off his face the second year, when Al almost knocked him off his broom as Hufflepuff’s youngest beater ever. Both Lily’s brothers had inherited their parents’ talents with Quidditch. Whatever talent she had, she’d yet to discover. But discover it she would, she always knew. 

Being the youngest child and only daughter of the Boy Who Lived meant that more people knew Lily’s last name than her first. Growing up, aside from the gaggle of cousins she more or less got on with, she was simply “Potter”, or, more specifically “Potter’s girl”. Sometimes, “Jimmy’s sister” or more recently “Al’s sister”. She hadn’t felt like Lily all her life.

Going to Hogwarts would have to change that. Lily had climbed onto the train, butterfly wings tucked between her shoulder blades, following Rose numbly down the hall to the next compartment. Rose's friends were nice and kind to her, but quickly started gossiping about boys and the first charms project of the new year and forgot about the little girl sat next to Rose, sullen and slumping out of her seat.

Lily had looked out the window of the compartment mutely, wondering what would happen if she upped and left. "You seem hexed dumb," Rose had said, "and by 'dumb' I mean 'mute'."

Rose was always one for helpfully expanding Lily's vocabulary, because she thought Lily "didn't talk enough". Lily didn't talk when she had nothing to say, and she really had nothing to say that train ride. She ripped off the leg of a chocolate frog savagely, which no one beside her noticed.

The boats to Hogwarts had been a bit better. “I’m Karolyn Krowe,” a cheery, bright-eyed brunette had said to Lily, reaching out to shake her hand. “Lily,” said Lily in return. 

“Lily who?” said Karolyn.

Lily bit her lip, wondering if she should think up a pseudonym, but her mind moved in slow motion. Before she even knew what she was saying, she heard herself give the automatic answer, “Lily Luna Potter.”

Karolyn’s face had brightened even more then, like she was looking at a rare and valuable jewel. “You...the last Potter kid?”

“Yeah,” Lily had muttered, “Yeah, that’s me.”

Karolyn had proceeded to badger Lily with the usual questions the whole boat ride. What was Harry like? What was it like to have him away all the time? Did she have any special abilities like her parents?

He’s like a dad. It’s not great to have him away so much. I don’t know, Lily had said, I don’t know. 

She had bristled by the time she arrived at Hogwarts, her face almost as red as her hair. Karolyn seemed to mean well, yes, but she had hoped she could just be Lily once she got to school. Of course, life wouldn’t be so simple…

She had withstood the stares and barrages of hasty introductions and general fanfare of the other students Karolyn introduced her to. Then she grew silent when the sorting process began.

None of the students seemed terribly exceptional, but Lily watched with rapt interest at the “exceptions” that popped up during the ceremony. Many students knew where they wanted to be before they were sorted, she knew that much. She also knew that their families frequently had expectations for them. Looking over at the gaggle of red hair at the Gryffindor table, she knew that all too well. She cast a glance over at Al, laughing and joking with his friends in Hufflepuff. He shot her a sympathetic smile, and she smiled back. Then she looked at the Ravenclaw table, where a solitary Fred Weasley (the second) sat, nose buried in a book. Uncle George had pretended to give his son a hard time about being sorted into Ravenclaw, though he’d clearly been proud of Fred’s brains. But being in a different house from the rest of the family had exacerbated her cousin’s already shoddy social skills. 

“If you think it’s a good idea,” he’d told her a few weeks ago, “make your own way in the world. But don’t be afraid to be pragmatic.”

“How do you mean, Frederick?” Lily asked, teasingly using the name that had been trying to go by for a year now.

Fred(erick) had sighed, like he was explaining advanced herbology to a preoccupied house elf (and yes, he’d attempted to do that in the past) and said, “Look, weigh all your options. If you think a different house from our family’s chosen one will help you academically in the long run, go for it. If not, if you think you’ll need the Weasley proximity, well…” 

“I’ll make friends wherever I go,” Lily had said, raising her chin. 

Fred had blinked a few times and said, “Yes, yes, of course, Lils. Didn’t mean anything too bleak by it.”

But Lily knew that breaking the status quo had been hard on him, and hard on Al. She could see all the signs of that same nervousness on her new classmates when they got sorted. 

First, the sorting hat would stall for a while. The whole room would hold its breath, as if the other students could tell that something sinister (or at least scandalous) was in the air. Someone named Guinevere Goyle, a pudgy, unassuming young witch with big, wide-brimmed glasses had this happen to her first, early on in the alphabet. She’d stared blankly down at her hands, and Lily wondered what was going on in her mind.

Then, the moment would break. In Guinevere’s case, it yelled clear and loud, “Ravenclaw!”

A slight pause, before Ravenclaws all stood up and loudly applauded. Another house may remain silent-- in this case, the Slytherin table watched Guinevere’s hasty departure to the Ravenclaw table with varying slack-jawed expressions, ranging from sympathetic to sneering. A few applauded, but many remained seated, mashed potatoes or giant turkey legs momentarily forgotten.

This Guinevere Goyle person. The Slytherins had thought she’d be one of them, hadn’t they? Guinevere never looked up until she saw her housemates at the Ravenclaw table, had them pat her on the back and welcome her in. She didn’t look up until she thought she was safe, Lily guessed.

Some other surprises followed, whether or not Lily noticed them all: a Nigel Hernandez-Chang strode over to the Gryffindor table confidently (maybe too confidently, like he’d been preparing for this moment), clapping the shoulders of several Gryffindors while the Ravenclaws sulked beside them. A bubbly, sweet-looking blonde girl named Marianne Greengrass tentatively perched on the edge of her chair while the Sorting Hat declared, “Hufflepuff!” Marianne, visibly shaking and avoiding some choice glares from the Slytherin table, hurried off to join the Hufflepuffs, some of whom (Al among them) moved to crowd around her almost protectively. Then, in an odd turn of events, Lorcan and Lysander Lovegood-Scamander, maybe twins given the same double-hyphenated last name, were sorted back-to-back. Lorcan beamed and strode off to the Gryffindor table much like Nigel had; Lysander was silent, tense and unsure when he sat down at the Slytherin table across the hall. The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors simply gawked, although several Slytherins had already sat down next to Lysander, offering him some pickled quail or a pot of tea, given how pale and shaky he was. 

Slytherin. Lily had eyed the table with admittedly more interest than she’d intended. James and Al acted like they were filled with devils and Death Eaters, blood purists and bigots. But they didn’t look so bad to her, being quick to fill Lysander’s plate with food and offer reassurance. If she was sorted into Slytherin, she wondered if they’d do that for her. Not bug her with questions about being Harry Potter’s daughter, but welcome her as a refugee from another world. 

Karolyn was sorted into Gryffindor. She beamed at Lily, who smiled tentatively back. Then, Lily studied her boots until she heard someone named Mary Post being called to the hat. She was sorted into Ravenclaw without a fuss. Post? Well, Potter was probably next then.

When her time came, Lily kept her butterfly wings between her shoulder blades and her head upright, being pulled like a puppet toward the hat. Professor Longbottom smiled warmly at her. Lily flashed a small grin before looking at the hat, who only regarded her with an expression of mild interest.

Lily didn’t want to be a Slytherin. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but it wasn’t who she was. It was scary, she admitted, and she didn’t like being scared. She tried to be fearless. 

“Don’t worry, love,” her mother had told her before she bid her daughter a tearful goodbye, “you’re the most fearless person I know. Gryffindor will be glad to have you.”

Just hearing her mother’s words made Lily’s heart pound with fear, but she hadn’t let it show. She was good at concealing her weaknesses when she wanted to. She’d done it all her life.

Please, not Slytherin, Lily thought, almost prayed, when the hat slipped over her little head and even over her eyes. The brilliant light of the great hall seemed to disappear, and even the noise dulled to a low thrum.

**Oh, ho,** the hat’s voice echoed in her mind, making her flinch. **Yes. Definitely Harry Potter’s child. Did you know he asked the same thing too? He begged me not to put him in Slytherin. He would have done well in it, as would you. But you both beg me not to do it-- so did your brother, Albus.**

Lily stiffened. She was dizzyingly aware of how much time was passing as the hat gave her its little homily. Her heart began pounding again. Ever since Harry Potter’s younger son, the one that most resembled him, had been sorted into Hufflepuff of all houses, gossip columns had buzzed about where his little girl would end up. “A reliable source” (definitely either Rose or Dominique, Lily had thought) “says that the littlest Potter is quite ambitious and demanding, to the point of petulance. Could Harry Potter’s little princess end up in the Slytherin house, amongst his greatest foes?” 

James had teased her mercilessly. On some level, she thought, he just enjoyed the attention. He liked being dad’s oldest son, and only child in the Gryffindor house. Being Harry Potter’s son in Gryffindor meant being practically a demigod, and James didn’t want anyone hogging the spotlight.

**And James, too. Both of your father’s Jameses...his father, and his son. Both begged me keep them from Slytherin.** Of course, the sorting hat could read her mind.

Well, she retorted telepathically, none of them are Slytherins. Could you just hurry up and put me in Gryffindor?

**Well,** said the hat, **It’s not so simple, Miss Lily. You see, Albus had none of the ambition of Slytherin. Neither James Potter that I’ve sorted had any of the cunning. Only you and your father had everything. Ambition, cunning, tenacity. You are a determined one, Miss Lily.**

You sorted my father into Gryffindor, though, Lily reminded the hat.

**Yes, well, you lack some qualities of Gryffindor. The most significant quality, I’m afraid.**

Lily felt even more dizzy. The chatter around the great hall came back to her, full force. She almost fell off of the chair, thinking of how long she’d been arguing with the blasted sentient sack of cloth on her head. 

The hat chuckled, somehow, in her mind. **You’re feisty. You’re very, very observant. You could be a Ravenclaw, but you aren’t interested in knowledge for the sake of knowledge. You want to make something of yourself, Potter.**

Yes, obviously, Hat. Just put me where I belong, I’m bold and I’m fearless and I’m bra--

The hat interrupted her thoughts. **You lie, Potter. You are not fearless. And you are not brave.**

Lily was dumbstruck, silent. The hat, graciously, took several more mortifying moments to elaborate. Lily realized that the hall had gone silent.

**You chose to sit with your cousins on the train, and were upset that they teased you, as cousins do. You did not want to step outside the life you've known. You want to join with Gryffindor because you want to take the easy way out. But did Frederick? Did Albus? You know that you could thrive in Slytherin house, but you cede the role in making amends between Potter’s faction and the children of those he fought-- children who only want a chance to prove themselves, much like you, in order to fit in with a group of Weasleys that have coddled you and also mocked you your whole life-- as family does. You fault the lovely Miss Krowe for judging you based on heritage, but you do the same to the young Slytherin folk. Tell me, Miss Potter, how are you brave? I should think you have a weak heart.**

Lily crossed her arms and tried not to cry. She almost never cried. She had always been precocious, ambitious. She only cried when she wasn’t getting her way.

I am a Slytherin, she realized with horror.

**So you agree. Miss Lily, I do take what the students want into consideration. But remember, you are but a young witch. Bravery, and justice, can be forged in a young witch’s soul. But only if she chooses to be brave.**

How will I be brave?

**By accepting what you must do.**

And just like that, the Hat called out, loud and clear and confident, “Slytherin!”

Lily felt herself turn completely red and shaky. Her eyes teared up in spite of herself. The Hat was ripped off of her head, the blinding light of the great hall reappeared, and she was left facing several hundred gaping faces. In the crowd, she found James’s face, brow furrowed. He muttered something quickly to his surrounding gaggle of friends, and after a pause, they burst into hasty applause. Albus’s table followed. 

Lily turned to the Slytherin table. She looked up and down at the students, some smiling, some gawking, some scowling at her. After a moment, the Head Girl, a tall, lovely older teenager with black hair tumbling down her back in box braids, stood up and applauded. The rest of the table followed suit, Lysander (who had seemed to have recovered slightly) among them. 

Lily kept her head up and her butterfly wings tucked between her shoulder blades, and she strode over to the Slytherin table. Lysander patted a spot next to himself for her to sit.

“I’ve met you,” he said. 

Lily blinked. “You have?” The faces of her parents’ numerous friends and their children sometimes blurred in her mind. His face was familiar, but…

“My mother, she’s mates with your folks. And the whole Weasley clan,” Lysander gestured to the Gryffindor table. “Luna Lovegood. Name ring a bell?”

Luna Lovegood. Luna Lovegood. Looking at Lysander’s face, the image of a pale blonde woman surfaced in Lily’s mind. Luna Lovegood, who’d read stories to her as a child. Luna Lovegood, her mother’s best friend. Luna Lovegood, for whom she’d been named. Having children and an intense career had meant that Luna hadn’t had as much time to see Lily as a child, and her sons had seemed more annoying when she was young than like family. But Lysander seemed nice now. Sweet. How had he ended up in Slytherin, like her?

“Felicia Day,” a redheaded girl with her hair in a bob tousled Lily’s hair. “You’re a cute kid. Hope we can protect you from rabid self-righteous Gryffindor gobl--”

“Cut it out,” said a boy next to her, eyeing Lily calmly. “Just leave her alone.”

He grinned at Lily, tapping his finger lightly on his sparsely occupied plate. He was handsome, tall, with blonde hair and icy grey eyes. His smile wasn’t cruel, though. She had trouble reading it.

“Scorpius Malfoy,” he said, “Your brother hates me-- James, I mean. Al’s alright, though.”

“Al’s everyone’s friend,” Lily retorted. “James is a pigheaded bloke.”

“And you? What’re you?” he asked.

“I’m Lily,” Lily said, realizing that she’d regained her composure.

“Who’s messin’ with the first year now, Malfoy?” Felicia sneered. 

“I’m not messing with her. I’m trying to feel out her aura.”

“Malfoy’s into divination,” said Felicia, flicking a piece of corn at him. She turned back to Lily.

“We’ll protect you, though,” she repeated, grinning ear-to-ear. 

“Well,” said Lily, “I certainly hope I don’t need protection.”

Scorpius snorted. “She talks like a professor with a wand up her behind, not an eleven year old. The Slytherin portraits will love her.”

Lily turned back to Lysander, who looked just as lost as she was. 

“The Sorting Hat just wants me to build bridges,” she said, shrugging. She meant to imply that that was the only reason she was here. But Scorpius chuckled anyways. 

“Nice hat,” he said, “didn’t know it was a diplomat. Well, I just so happen to be descended from a long line of blood purists, and Day’s dad over here was a Death Eater. So let’s just shake hands and call a truce.”

Lily smirked. Two could play at this game. “Alright, yes, it’ll be my first mission in this house.”

Scorpius reached out to shake Lily’s hand. His was smooth and cool, hers clammy and shaky. If he noticed anything, he graciously said nothing. Then he sat back and gestured for Felicia to follow suit.

“Pleasure to meet you, Lily Potter,” she said loudly. Lily just chuckled and looked back at the misfits of her year. Guinevere’s pudgy face was animated as she gesticulated while speaking with an older Ravenclaw. Marianne was talking and giggling with the other first years in Hufflepuff. Alone at the Gryffindor table, Nigel seemed to be watching the other Gryffindors chatter and joke around, silently casting a glance or two at the Ravenclaw table. Lorcan seemed to be getting on well with Rose and one of her friends.

Her gaze shifted, and she saw Karolyn watching her with a worried expression. Lily was about to glance away, before she saw Karolyn smile and wave.

Lily waved back, numbly. She doesn’t care that I’m a Slytherin? 

Turning back to the Slytherin table, Lily realized that she’d somehow lost everyone’s attention. Scorpius was yelling at Peeves for spilling his drink over his food, and Felicia had started chatting with a girl next to her. Lysander was debating with another first-year boy whether or not he should try the roasted pheasant or boiled slug next.

She felt little all of a sudden, floating around in the big, crowded great hall, one tiny fresh face among many.

“What’re you smilin’ at, kid?” Felicia asked, turning to her.

“Nothing,” said Lily. Bravery can be forged in a young witch’s heart, the Hat had said. 

“I’ll try the boiled slug if you won’t, Lysander,” she said, shrugging her thin shoulders. She’d start with the boiled slug, and maybe one day, the Hat would eat its words about her weak heart.

**Author's Note:**

> So while I was writing this, I was like "is it unrealistic that Cho/Luna/Daphne/Goyle would all have kids in Lily's year?" Then I just figured that the Greengrass/Goyle families are probably uniformly Slytherin, so Guinevere and Marianne just come from those families; they're not necessarily the children of anyone Harry and co. know (though I wanted their surnames to be something readers would be familiar with). Nigel is Cho's kid though.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed this drabble. :)


End file.
